Tired
by junglemag
Summary: OneShot. My hopes for the season finale. Grissom pacing outside Sara's apartment. A little fluffy


**Disclaimers: **I don't own anything involved with CSI, except a few of the dvds. Please don't sue me.

This is my very first fan fic. I wrote it as my hopes for the season finale. It contains a few spoilers for 6x22.

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"What am I doing here?"

From the outside, Gil Grissom had to look like a madman, pacing across the bottom step of the stairs leading to Sara's apartment. Was he really going to do this? He'd loved her for the past six years. Hell, when he thought about it, he'd probably loved her since the day he'd met her.

When she came up to him after that conference, his heart jumped. Had she noticed him in the way he had her? Some kind of feral urge to grab her and mark her as his own flooded him and he reached for the nearest chair, not trusting his own hands.

_That smile, those eyes,...what was she saying? Snap out of it, Gil!_

Somehow he found his voice and answered the benign forensic questions, handing her a business card, encouraging her to give him a call when she graduated.

It ended up being him that called, beckoning her to Vegas. Had he made a mistake? Of course not. He'd rather be merely in the presence of her than any place else in the world. But lately, the space between them had been strained. With the tension mounting, he found himself hiding in his off, assigning her cases with Nick or Warrick, never himself. This isn't the way he wanted it. He wanted her, her only. Ever since that case with Caprice, he felt like every time he walked into a room that he was naked while everyone else was clothed. She knew he wanted her, the psychic made that fairly clear, but did she want him? Was it really too late? He had to find out. He threw on his clothes, ran a comb through his hair, he reached for his keys and headed for the door.

Now here he was, padding back and forth on that step, certainly wearing a groove in the concrete. He'd gone over the words he would say when she opened the door.

_Would he blurt out, "I love you!"? No, no...no need to scare the girl to death. "I've missed you"? You idiot! you just saw her seven hours ago! Just wing it, yeah...good idea. Throw out a quote, something Shakespearean, that's the ticket! You can do this Gil, just treat this like an interrogation. So, Sidle, you think you can just invade every thought in my head? Well, I'm done running, the only place I want to be is by your side._

Slowly he paced up the stairs.

_Do it, keep going, one food in front of the other. You want this more than you've ever wanted anything. Reach out and grab it. Claim her like she's claimed you. _

When he reached her door, he let out an exasperated sigh.

_Let's get this over with. What's the worst thing that could happen? Oh, she could just rip your heart out of your chest and riverdance on it! Should I knock twice? three times? Forcefully, or tap on the door?_

In five years, Gil Grissom wouldn't have a clue how many knocks he laid on Sara Sidle's door, but this day would be branded into his brain with the force of a cattle iron. It all hinged on this moment, he was going for broke. He hesitated at her doorstep. Six years, six years of cat and mouse, catch and release...well, the buck stops here.

He knocked on the door, his demeanor lying somewhere between anxious and reserved.

_Straight face, Gil, straight face._

"Just a minute," he heard.

_Oh God, she's home, she's coming to the door. This is really happening. Breathe, just breathe! The last thing you want is for her to open the door and find you passed out in the hallway._

"Grissom! Oh...hey, um...is something wrong? I've had my pager on, and my cell is fully charged. Is this about the Andrews case?" She looked confused.

"No Sara, um...I, uh, I came over here, well, I mean the reason I cam over was because I'm , well...tired," he replied nervously.

"Tired?" Her face was somewhere between anxious and worried. "Well, Griss, you can come in if you want, I've got some coffee brewing if..."

He interrupted, "Let me get this out first, Sara," he felt as though an elephant was sitting on his chest. "When I said I was tired, I didn't mean physically. I meant...emotionally, spiritually. Six years is, well...it's a long time to deny loving the one person you completes you, fulfills you."

He saw her stiffen at the word loving.

_Oh God, did I just admit that I loved her in some weird, roundabout way? That's not how I planned it. God, Gil, you didn't plan a damned thing, you're flying by the seat of your pants here. Keep talking before you completely blow this!_

"What I mean is, jeez," he sighed, "this is so much harder than I thought it would be."

Sara looked at him with tears welling up in her eyes. He felt her reach out and graze his forearm with her fingertips. When he looked into her eyes, he was sure that if he died at that moment, his venture into the unknown was a success.

"Sara, I'm tired of running away. I'm tired of hiding, I'm tired of the mind games, the second guessing. I'm tired of pretending that I don't love you." The fingers on his forearm tightened. "I do, Sara, I love you. I've loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I love every inch of you, every quirk, every look, every question. And if you give me a chance, I'll do my best to make the last six years up to you. Starting today, Gil Grissom is a new man, your man if you'll have me..."

He didn't have a chance to say anymore. Her arms enveloped him, pulling him into an embrace. Her lips meeting his in a slow, time-stalling kiss.

"Come in," she whispered, "You've got a lot of making up to do."

The End


End file.
